


Scared my love, you'll go

by mormoriarty



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5616193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormoriarty/pseuds/mormoriarty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How could anyone look so miserable eating a lovely pink biscuit?” a voice from across the room asked.<br/>Eames.<br/>Eames, the soccer player. Eames, the wonderfully British, built, friendly soccer player. Arthur had doubts that Eames even knew him, they hadn’t really had any classes together, but Eames was popular and friendly to everyone, apparently, even to Arthur, who most of the time, was sullen as all hell.<br/>“Um.” Wow. Smooth, Arthur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I saw you there, lost and trying to be

**Author's Note:**

> I usually write a Christmas fic with one of my OTPs, but with travelling and college apps, this is all I managed. A late Arthur/Eames New Year's fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Alessia Cara's Here (it inspired Arthur's party attitude): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UKp2CrfmVfw

Arthur stepped through the door and immediately felt ill at the sight of so many people around him. People leaning against the walls with their plastic cups of beer. People sitting on couches and the stairs and the floor with their shoes on, shouting over the too-loud music. People spilling drinks and probably smoking weed and knocking greasy chips over on the carpet. Arthur honestly couldn’t tell if he wanted to get out or clean up. And of course Ariadne had abandoned him before he’d even gotten his bearings, running off with her new boyfriend? friend? drinking buddy? and leaving him feeling ridiculous and awkward amongst people he didn’t know. Why had he agreed to come? Oh right, Ariadne had promised him they could bake some cookies or something afterward. Honestly, he hadn’t wanted to leave his house, but his mother had jumped at the opportunity to see him go out with friends. She didn’t seem to care what they would be doing, as long as “her Arthur was out socializing”. And so here he was, doing the same thing he could be doing at home, just wandering around awkwardly.

He didn’t even know whose house this was; he didn’t hang with this crowd at all. He didn’t really hang with any crowd, really, only Ariadne, who had been his next-door neighbor and best friend of many years, and well, some people looked familiar from classes or around town. He checked his watch. It was only ten. Ariadne made him promise he’d stay past midnight and not spend New Year’s Eve alone. But did it count now that he felt even more alone while at a crowded party than holed up in his own room?

He tried to find the kitchen to see if he could get something to eat that wasn’t going to make him leave greasy fingerprints everywhere. His sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor and he winced. He would take off his shoes, but he had spotted little puddles of what he hoped desperately was water, but he wasn’t taking his chances with stepping in whatever it was in just his socks.

The kitchen table was set with bowls of various snacks: more chips, cheese puffs, salsa, animal crackers, even. He finally settled on an animal cracker, deciding it would make the least mess. He nibbled gently on the horse? zebra? buffalo? covered in pink icing and rainbow sprinkles, and grimaced. He hadn’t had one of these since--

“How could anyone look so miserable eating a lovely pink biscuit?” a voice from across the room asked.

Arthur looked up.

Eames.

 

Eames, the soccer player. Eames, the wonderfully British, built, friendly soccer player. Arthur had doubts that Eames even knew him, they hadn’t really had any classes together, but Eames was popular and friendly to everyone, apparently, even to Arthur, who most of the time, was sullen as all hell.

“Um.” _Wow, smooth, Arthur_. “It’s really not...uh, lovely?”

Eames nicked the biscuit from his fingers, popping it in his mouth. Arthur wondered distantly about germs as he watched Eames chew thoughtfully.

“It’s...”

“Stale, innit?” Eames made a face, and even Arthur had to smile a bit. “Kind of a weird snack to serve at a party, if you ask me. Unless they were expecting primary school children to show up.”

“Yeah.” Arthur was constantly at a loss for words around other people that probably came from being so anti-social all the time. Eames was even worse; he was so friendly that he made Arthur feel like he needed to ramble on or do something to make up for seeming grumpy. “I don’t suppose they go well with beer?” he offered, trying to make a joke.  He had failed miserably, hadn’t he?

To his surprise, Eames laughed. “Did you want to try?” he asked, offering Arthur his cup.

“Er, I don’t really...”

“Ah, what we should really be asking the host for is some milk to dip these biscuits into.” Eames winked. “Be right back, love.”

 _Love._ Arthur savored the word in his mouth. Bleh. The stale animal cracker taste was still there.

 

He was sitting at the kitchen table after finding some water, scrolling around on his phone absentmindedly.

“Ah, good, Arthur, you’re still here!” Arthur turned around to find Eames and a very curly-haired boy. “I’d like you to meet my mate, Yusuf.”

Yusuf clasped him suddenly in an emotional, back-thumping hug. Eames must have seen his surprised look, because he pulled Yusuf back. “Sorry about him, he’s a bit drunk. The lovey-kind of drunk, you know?”

Arthur nodded like he knew what Eames was talking about.

“Your girl’s been real nice to me, Arthur,” Yusuf said, slurring his words a little bit.

“My girl?”

“You know. Ariadne.”

 _It’s not be the first time someone’s thought that._ “Oh, she’s not--”

“But she goes on about you all the time. Are you sure, mate?” Yusuf squinted at him.

“Yes, I’m very sure,” he said firmly.

“Well, if you say so.” Yusuf looked at him like he didn’t really believe him.

Eames watched this exchange curiously. “Is this the new girl you’ve been seeing, Yusuf?”

 

Out of nowhere, Ariadne appeared like a small, tipsy fairy. “Oh, I was wondering where you had gone, Yusuf.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Arthur! There you are!” She pecked him on the cheek as well.

Arthur blushed.

“Excuse me, but I don’t believe we’ve met.” Arthur watched as Eames took her hand like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman and kissed it. “Ariadne, I presume?”

Ariadne giggled. “You got it in one.”

“Eames.”

“Of course. I know who you are.” She giggled again and kissed him on the cheek too.  Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Oi! Eames, you infernal charmer, get away from her!” Yusuf jokingly pushed Eames away, snatching Ariadne back protectively. Yusuf and Ariadne began making out sloppily and passionately, as drunk teenagers do.  

“Right then, Arthur, I can see we’re not wanted here. Let’s go on the porch,” Eames said, pulling Arthur along.

 

Eames pushed the screen door open. It was cool, but not terribly cold, despite it being New Year’s Eve. Arthur could get away with just his sweater, though he had no idea how Eames wasn’t shivering in his long-sleeved Henley.

Arthur leaned against the wooden railing of the wraparound porch, gazing up at the twinkly lights that bordered the roof above them.

“So, no book to accompany you tonight?” Eames joked.

 _Was that some kind of insinuation?_ “Hey, I’m not some kind of--” Arthur started.

“No need to get your hackles up.” Eames held his hands up in mock surrender. “I just...always see you walking around with your nose buried in a book, even at lunch.”

“Sorry. I just didn’t think people...” _like you..._ “noticed me.” Arthur felt himself blushing, though he hoped Eames think his flush was from the cold. And why would people notice him? He mostly kept to himself at school, save for finding Ariadne when they had the same lunch period. Otherwise, he stayed glued to his books so he wouldn’t have to make unwanted conversation.

“How could I not? You’re like the best dressed person in school.” Eames gestured at his sweater and placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “And you seem cool. I would’ve talked to you, I just never wanted to interrupt your reading.”

Eames’s hand felt warm, even through Arthur’s sweater.

“Well, we can talk now.”

  



	2. you're driving me wild

It was the kind of clear, beautiful, quiet night that made Arthur feel like he should lay down in the grass and look up at the stars. Only the grass was probably frosted over like a giant cold, stiff blanket and if he just laid down on it, Eames would probably think he was crazy.  

His hand still rested gently on Arthur’s shoulder as they leaned against the porch talking and swapping stories. Arthur had wanted to flinch away a little at the touch originally, but now, it just felt like it belonged there.

They actually had a lot in common; Eames was well-read for a popular soccer player and they had bonded over their similar distaste of salad. Arthur thought it was atrocious that Eames hadn’t seen _The Polar Express_ and Eames thought it was atrocious that Arthur hadn’t liked Daniel Craig as Bond. And now Arthur was rambling on about _Beloved_ , a very interesting novel that he loved but most people probably would’ve thought he’d hate. It was a wonderful book and he was pleasantly surprised to find that Eames had read it as well. Arthur paused to catch his breath between thoughts and realized he'd probably been speaking for far too long. It seemed quiet, now that he had stopped talking, even though they could hear the music from inside, slightly muffled. He stopped himself, embarrassed. He was kind of surprised no one had interrupted them, actually.

“Well, I think the theory that Beloved is some random stranger is just absolute bollocks,” Eames commented, blowing out his breath and watching it become a cloud in the cold air. He pretended to be a dragon, complete with sound effects.

Arthur laughed. “Yeah. There are just too many things that can’t be explained away like that.”  

“What? You mean you don’t believe in fate, darling? What brought us two together then?”

_Did Eames just wink at me?_

Arthur pretended to think for a moment, and then said solemnly, “I believe in pink animal crackers.” He couldn't tell if it was honestly a good joke or not, but Eames seemed thoroughly amused and they both had a good laugh. Eames made him feel like he could laugh freely, without worrying like he normally did that he sounded ridiculous or that someone would overhear him.

“Good man,” Eames finally said, squeezing Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur tried hard not to lean into the touch. “To biscuits that watch over us!” He looked up toward the sky and raised his drink, magically producing another one behind him for Arthur. _Where the hell had that come from?_ “Cheers, Arthur,” he pronounced heartily, handing him the cup.

“What is this?” Arthur asked, looking down at the plastic cup curiously. It was dark outside and he couldn't quite tell, but it sure didn't look like beer. He sniffed it cautiously. It wasn't some kind of weird fruity mixed drink, was it?

“What is this? What else would it be, Arthur? It’s milk!” Eames half-shouted with delight over Arthur's surprised look. “Had to settle for milk because I didn’t want to bother with mugs for a proper cuppa. But like the respectable Englishman I am, I’ve got biscuits on me!” He fished out a half-finished pack of chocolate digestives from the pocket of his jeans, waving them in front of Arthur’s face.

Arthur burst out laughing, nearly flinging the milk out of his hand in the process. How was Eames constantly so...not constant? He was so unpredictable, which was so different from Arthur's need to pre-plan and schedule down to the last detail. Arthur set his cup down carefully, still grinning. “I can’t believe you actually--”

“You better believe it, darling. I can’t let your only memory of New Year’s Eve be disgusting little shapeless ‘ _crackers_ ’, can I?” Eames asked, complete with the air quotes over the word “crackers”.

Arthur laughed, taking in the moment before him: Eames standing there in his waffle-knit heather grey Henley, clutching the pack of biscuits and trying to shake out the crumbs from his pocket.  “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be the only memory I have of tonight.”

Eames looked up at the twinkly lights that bordered the roof above them. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then handed Arthur a digestive after fiddling with the noisy plastic wrapper. Arthur nibbled on it.

“Gotta dunk in the milk, love.” Eames handed him his cup again. “But gotta eat it quick, don’t want it to turn into little crumblies in your cup.”

“Yes, thanks, _mum_.” Arthur smiled.

“Hey, what kind of Englishman would I be if I didn’t introduce you to the digestive biscuit properly? Can’t have you going ‘round saying ol’ Eames taught you to dunk your biscuit in and just leave it there, floating ‘round all soggy and disintegrating. It’d be like I betrayed England. I could have my head cut off, you know.” For a moment, he looked so sad Arthur worried he was actually serious. And then he heard a chuckle.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” And because Eames made him feel free and bold and adventurous, he added, “Your head looks way too good to be cut off. It would be an absolute tragedy.”

“Do you think they’d remember me? Parade my head around the world while the people drowned in their tears?” Eames looked up in front of him like he could see his glorious death parade in a floating flash-forward.

“Of course.”

“Plaster my face up on posters so they could pretend I was still around?” he asked, around a mouthful of biscuit. Arthur watched him lick the crumbs from his lips in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive but somehow still was.

“Girls will cry and kiss the posters and take them home to keep you with them.”

“What about the boys, Arthur?” Eames was like a little boy begging for a bedtime story to continue.

After a moment, Arthur added, “The boys too.”

“Can I get a film about me?”

“People will write songs,” Arthur promised.

“To celebrate me?”

“More like mourn for you. Losing one of their best would really take a toll on the people,” Arthur announced solemnly.

“Aw, Arthur, do you really mean that?” Eames clasped him in a one-armed side hug, pulling Arthur toward him so that Arthur’s head rested in the crook of his neck.

Arthur smiled, letting himself savor the moment. Eames smelled of cinnamon and something smoky and musky and masculine.  He looked up at him. Eames was so close and warm, his lips just parted and his eyes looking up at the lights again. Arthur couldn’t stop staring at his lips. He was just leaning in--

They broke apart suddenly when they heard shouting inside. “I guess it’s nearly time for the countdown,” Eames explained

Arthur looked down, biting his lip. His elbows rested on the railing of the porch. A million thoughts raced through his mind. _Do we stay here? Does he like me? What if I’m reading this all wrong?_  Suddenly, he wished he could go back to his books. They weren’t so unpredictable, and even if they got his hopes up, no one would have to see him disappointed in the solace of his own room.

He looked up at the lights, their yellowy bulbs like little fireflies against the sky. He wondered why Eames kept staring at them, what he was thinking. All he knew was that Eames standing so close to him made him itch to touch him, made him wonder what he tasted like now that he knew what he smelled like, made him want to hear Eames’s laugh forever and always.

 _Oh, fuck it._ Arthur turned toward Eames suddenly, launching himself forward. He overestimated and his lips landed first to the left corner of Eames’s, but Arthur moved accordingly and finally kissed him on the mouth, something he had wanted to do all night. But beneath his lips, Eames seemed to have frozen.

Arthur stopped.  _Ohnohedoesn’tlikemeIreadthisallwronghedoesn’tlikemelikethisnonononopleaseno_

“Guess we’ll just be starting early then,” Eames said, cracking a smile.

Arthur sighed with sweet relief, only to have his breath taken away again when Eames finally returned the kiss.  


	3. my youth is yours

Their lips crashed together, softly and madly, teeth biting and nibbling, tongues exploring like there was nothing else. Eames stroked the soft skin of Arthur’s cheek beneath his fingers, eyes closed, eager to lose himself in this trembling boy who stood before him that he now felt that he had known forever.

“ _Oh_ ,” Arthur seemed to sigh into him, relaxing and giving in once he was sure that Eames felt the same.

Distantly, Eames could hear the countdown to midnight over the music, but time seemed to slow. Right now all he cared about was the sound of Arthur’s heart beating against his chest, the feel of his lips tenderly beneath his, the taste of chocolate biscuit still on his tongue. He almost wished for falling snow to blanket and quiet the world around them so he could watch the snowflakes catch in Arthur’s dark hair and kiss him forever.

 

They finally had to pull apart to breathe for a moment amidst cheers from inside. “Do you hear them?” Eames murmured.

“Hmm?” Arthur asked, slow and almost-sleepy, leaning into Eames. It was like the sharp edges he put out to the world with his always-present books and distrusting looks and expertly-creased button-downs had softened around him.

Eames whispered conspiratorially, “They’re cheering because they know this is how you end the true biscuit experience.” He punctuated his dramatic words with a wink.

Arthur swatted at Eames, laughing a twinkly sort of laugh from behind his fingers. “The biscuit experience?”

“It's true, no one tells you, but biscuits are meant to be accompanied by kisses from lovely boys.”

Arthur blushed, which by now, seemed to Eames like a fairly common and utterly adorable action. Eames removed the hand that Arthur seemed to perpetually have in front of his face, taking it into his own.

“So tell me, lovely boy Arthur, do you fancy nipping inside for a hot cocoa?”

Arthur was still in the midst of blushing, but seemed to redden further. He cleared his throat. “Er, that sounds great, actually. Do you think they have any?”

“What kind of respectable house doesn’t have the ingredients for a hot cocoa? Anyways, I happen to know that this house always does.”

Arthur followed Eames back inside, back to the kitchen. “Is this your house?” Arthur asked curiously, casting a look over the people littered over the couches, dancing, drinking. He hopped up on the counter as Eames prepared the cocoa in a saucepan.

“Nah, it’s Dom’s.” Eames rummaged around in the drawers for a cup to measure out the milk.  And where was that vanilla?

“Oh. Dom,” Arthur repeated, kind of blankly.

“You know, my teammate. One of my best mates.”

That was an understatement. Since he had joined the football, er, soccer, team, his first year, Dom had taken him underneath his wing. He was basically like a brother to Eames. Eames hang out with him and had stayed at his house countless times, just to crash and sometimes when he just needed to get away from his father.

“I know who he is, just--”

 

As if on cue, Dom came crashing through the kitchen doors. “Hey, Eames,” he said, clearly pissed and slurring and not at all surprised to find his friend cooking in his kitchen.

Arthur jumped down from the counter, startled by Dom.

Dom presented the girl on his arm. “This is Mallory, she just moved here.” They were wrapped around each other, Dom carding his fingers through her short, wavy hair.

“‘Mal’,” she corrected, French accent surfacing. She held out her hand. She was very pretty, but he could tell she only had eyes for Dom.

“ _Enchanté_ ,” Eames offered, setting down the cup and kissing her hand like he had Ariadne’s.

 _Was Arthur pouting?_ Eames smiled. Dom and Mal were curled around each other, in their own little world, even though they were meant to be talking to Arthur and Eames. Arthur had nothing to worry about.

Dom seemed to shake himself. “Eames. Arthur, right?” he asked, making sure. Arthur nodded vigorously, surprised, it seemed, that Dom knew him. “Take care of Mal while I use, uh, the bathroom, would you?” He extricated himself from Mal gingerly, placing a little kiss on her cheek. “Be right back.”

“Eames,” she said, remembering. “Dom talks about you all the time.”

“I do hope it’s all bad.” He winked at her. Behind them, he could tell Arthur was standing at the stove, stirring the saucepan with a wooden spoon.

“Ah, _oui_. He tells me of all the trouble you two have gotten into. You are like, uh, his brother, no?”

“Pretty much. We’ve gotten to know each other very well through football, er, soccer.” He motioned to Arthur. “Have you two met?”

“Arthur, as Dom said? You are Eames’s friend?” Mal came around the kitchen island to kiss him on both cheeks.

He blushed.

“You are very adorable.” She smiled, as Arthur blushed again. “What are you making?” She sniffed the air delicately. “ _Le chocolat chaud_? Hot--”

“ _Oui, le chocolat chaud_ ,” Arthur said, with a perfect French accent. “ _Tu en veux?”_

_Well, aren’t you just full of surprises, Arthur?_

“ _Tu parles français ?_ ” Mal asked delightedly.

Eames left them to talk excitedly in French about God-knows-what. He loved their enthusiasm and caught a few words here and there, something about Paris being lovely in the springtime, but mostly, he took over the task of stirring the cocoa from Arthur.

 

God, how had he gotten here, he thought as he ladled out the hot chocolate into mugs for them all. There was a party happening just outside and here he was calmly putting whipped cream and marshmallows in cocoa. He didn’t know most of the people here but it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d have lost himself in laughing and drinking and dancing with faces he’d never see again.

And to think that when Dom had invited him over he almost hadn't wanted to show up. He was going to say he wasn't feeling up to it. He’d been a little down lately, bogged down by schoolwork and feeling like no one really knew him and that maybe it just didn't matter. But if he hadn't come tonight, he wouldn't have connected with Arthur, finally somewhere outside of school. Wouldn't have been able to save Arthur from that pink biscuit. Wouldn't have kissed him.

 

Dom came back, joining Mal with an arm looped around her shoulders. They all talked surprisingly easily, Dom and Mal complaining about their classes and acting like two older siblings to Arthur, who, while he wasn’t in their year, took a lot of senior classes. For all Arthur said about feeling awkward and shy, he fit in pretty well with Eames’s friends. Perhaps he was just more secure with Eames by his side, leaning into him as he sipped his cocoa slowly.

 

It was early morning by the time the four finally slowed their chat. Arthur said something about checking on Ariadne and having to drag her home. Eames thought he should probably go do something about Yusuf, who was likely completely sloshed by now. So they set off to find their friends, leaving Dom and Mal curled around each other again.

Eames wished he could be that comfortable showing off his relationship. He knew his friends wouldn’t mind. Dom knew he swung both ways. But was it even a relationship yet? They had made out, just once, but Eames knew he felt a connection to Arthur, as cheesy as that sounded.  He supposed he had this reputation for being a player, a ladies’ man. And they barely knew each other; sure, they had classes together but this had really been the first time they’d really talked. Eames knew he wanted this to happen again, wanted to make Arthur see himself as Eames did, wanted to pull those hands away from his face, wanted to make him happy. They had really known each other for such a short time, but Eames knew, that if he wasn’t now, he’d be smitten soon.

Arthur walked in front of him, pushing open doors and peering around corners to see if Ariadne and Yusuf could be found. They finally found them in Dom’s basement, talking and laughing on his couch, though Yusuf looked mildly ill but energetic and Ariadne seemed like she would doze off any second.

 

“Eamesie! There you are!” Yusuf shouted, getting to his feet and throwing his arms around Eames. “Where’ve you been all night, mate? Didn't even see ya for the countdown! Come on, go ‘head, give me one, right here!” He pointed to his cheek.

“Yusuf, mate, much as I like you, you’re going to hate yourself in the morning for giving me this much ammunition to use against you.”

“Ah, I've got just as much for you, ya know? And it’s New Year’s. To hell with it!” And with that declaration, he planted a huge, slobbery kiss right on Eames’s lips, making loud smooching noises. “And you, mate, Arthur, yes? I see you’re still hanging ‘round. Come ‘ere!” Eames laughed, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand as Arthur became Yusuf’s next victim.

“Er, thanks, Yusuf,” Arthur said awkwardly, backing away as if he thought Yusuf would physically assault him next. Ah, yes, they still didn’t really know each other, did they? Well, what a way to be introduced.

“Hey, I’ve known him for years and he’s only just kissed me like that. You should be honored.” Eames nudged Arthur, trying to get that uncomfortable look off his face.

Arthur laughed. “Right, well, okay, um. New Year’s, I suppose. Does he do this a lot?”

“You mean go ‘round kissing random people? Nah, not really. He’s just a lovey drunk, like I said. Ariadne?”

“She gets flirty too, but really tired.”

They both glanced at Ariadne, who seemed to have slumped over on the sofa.

“In fact, she looks like she might fall asleep soon.” He paused. “Er, I should probably bring her home.”

“What a gentleman.” Eames smiled. “And Yusuf definitely should not be driving. Good thing I swiped his keys earlier.”

“Well, I... I guess I’ll see you ‘round,” Arthur said quietly to Eames, walking over to Ariadne to drag her up to her feet. “Come on, Ari. Let’s get you home.”

 

They were almost to the door before Eames realized what he was letting go.

“Arthur, wait.” He went up and kissed him on the cheek softly. “See you ‘round, love.”  


	4. shooting stars and all the silver moons

Arthur pulled into his driveway after dropping Ariadne off next door. He vaguely remembered dragging Ariadne in and putting her to bed, _vaguely_ being the key word as his mind had been elsewhere.

_Eames._

Arthur felt as if he could still feel his lips on his cheek, his hands warm around him. He wrapped his arms around himself, his keys still in the ignition, the radio turned down to a low hum.

Eames had seemed to want something more than that one kiss, more than that one conversation. Was Arthur reading into this more than he should? He did, he did, too, he knew wanted more, but he wasn’t sure about a relationship. He had never really had one. He hadn’t even ever fooled around. So no experience, in, well, anything. Not like Eames, probably, who presumably had both guys and girls fawning all over him all the time. What if he couldn't give Eames what he wanted? What did Eames want? What did _he_ even want? All he knew was that he was definitely willing to see this out if Eames wanted to give it a try.

 

He finally shut off his car, trying to make his way into the house as quietly as he could as it was pretty _late? early?_ in the morning. His mother was already in bed, judging from the note on the kitchen table. He went through the motions of preparing to sleep, finally just giving up and brushing his teeth after deciding that he’d shower in the morning.

He collapsed onto his bed. What was he going to do?

 

* * *

 

Arthur still had a couple of days left before he had to go back to school, as his mother reminded him over breakfast. She so was happy that he had gone out the night before instead of staying in with his “boring old mom”. Her words, not his. She’d even made his favorite pancakes as some sort of reward for not being antisocial.

“Mom, I’m not antisocial,” he protested, knowing the reason for the special breakfast, as she didn’t usually cook. Or eat breakfast, for that matter. Usually she rushed out the door to work, grabbing the toast that he handed her before trying to make the train into the city.

 

“What? I can’t treat my son well after he’s gone the whole night before?” she asked, sitting down across from him and handing him a fork.

“I mean, I won’t say no, but you know I don’t mind staying home with you. And I can have a social life without having to go out every night, you know.”

“I just want you to enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about me. You’re young, have fun,” she said, cutting into the pancake.

 

In the afternoon, he thought about checking up on Ariadne. She was probably not doing the best, considering the night before. He opened up his messages.

**_Are you alive and well?_ **

_Barely._ She sent the emoji with the sick mask.

He hoped she felt alright. She hadn’t actually had a lot; she just couldn’t hold her alcohol.

**_Forgetting anything?_ **

_Just a bit toward the end since I was so tired. Not like blackout kind of forgetting, though... Thanks for bringing me home._

**_Of course. That’s what I’m here for._ **

_How were things with Eames?_

**_We...talked._ **

Among other things.

_Just talking? Didn’t he kiss you goodbye?_

**_So you were awake for that..._ **

_Barely, but I don’t think I would forget something as big as that._

**_It was just on the cheek._ **

_JUST!!! On!!! The cheek!!! Arthur, he barely knew you before last night._

It was true. Arthur had certainly known that Eames existed, hell, who wouldn't, but he had always assumed he was like some blip on the edge of the radar for a popular guy like Eames.

 **_I guess that makes it weird. He’s probably not looking for anything serious,_ ** he typed, half-hoping it wasn’t true.

_People don’t kiss people goodnight if they’re just looking for sex, Arthur._

**_How would I know? In fact, Eames probably would do that. He seems like the touchy-feely type._ ** He _was_ always giving people hugs and stuff. Who’s to say he wouldn’t kiss people goodnight?

_Stop worrying. I can feel you worrying._

**_I’m not worrying. What would I even worry about?_ **

_God knows. You’re probably overthinking last night. Arthur, IT’S FINE. He probably likes you. Stop worrying._

She was right. He was worrying. The longer he stayed in his room, the longer he thought about it and the more the situation gnawed at him. He tried to distract himself by reading. It worked, for a while. At some point it had even gotten dark outside.

 

He finally gave in. **_Ahhh...You’re right, I can’t stop worrying..._ **

_Just go with the flow. Play it by ear. Let it happen._

**_Are you going to tell me to do whatever floats my boat next?_ **

_If that’s what you need, I will tell you to do so._

**_Right. So what now, Miss Go-with-the-flow? What do I do?_ **

_Talk to him. Casually, Arthur. Don’t go in all worried and awkward._

**_Talk to him? Casually?_ **

_You know, message him. Find out his number or something. Try to meet up with him again before we have to go back to school._

**_What if he doesn’t actually want to talk to me?_ **

_It won’t hurt to try. Go on. I think he’s online right now._

**_Fine._ **

_Good luck :)_

 

He opened up his laptop. Sure enough, the little green dot flashed next to his name. _Thomas Eames._ Arthur clicked on it, watching the chat window pop up.

 **_Hi,_ ** he began. He sighed. He had no clue what he wanted to say, and god knows how long it would take just for him to figure out how to type a coherent sentence. He hit the backspace key a few times.

**_Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again before break ends._ **

There, short and simple. Casual, right? He closed his eyes and before he could think twice, hit SEND. He shut his laptop quickly, picking his phone up again.

 

**_Oh my god. I just did it._ **

_It's okay. Stop freaking out. Worse case- he'll just say he's already got plans. But then you can meet him after break anyway._

**_What if he just ignores me or doesn't see the message? Wait..._ **

 

He got the notification on his phone and slowly opened up his computer again. He could see three grey dots blinking in the text bubble next to Eames's name. He was typing. But he could be typing any number of things, outright rejection, ridicule, scorn. Arthur prepared himself for the worst.

 

**how about lunch at the café tomorrow?**

**_Sure. 12:30?_ **

**see u there :)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's not clear in the texts/messaging: italics = Ariadne, bolded italics = Arthur, bolded = Eames


	5. trying to sedate my mind in its cage

Eames stared at the message on his screen. 

**_Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out again before break ends._ **

 

He looked up to see if his bedroom door was closed, by force of habit even though he knew his parents were out again. 

He’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been waiting for this. Eames had been hesitating all day, trying to decide if he should make the first move or if he should wait. Trying to decide if he should message him. Find his number out from someone and call him. Did people even call each other on the phone anymore? Was that too direct? 

He had kept hoping and hoping Arthur would say something before they were forced to go back to school and they would miss each other due to their different schedules and classes. What did people usually do? How did people usually do on their first dates? He thought for a while.

**how about lunch at the café tomorrow?** he finally typed.  _ Let’s keep it casual. _

After what felt like an eternity, Arthur replied:  **_Sure. 12:30?_ **

**see u there :)**

Eames smiled to himself, watching the little smiley face emoji he had just typed bounce up and down in the animation of the message. He glanced at the clock. He had time for a shower and a quick dinner before he had to pretend he was asleep when his parents stumbled back in. 

 

\-------

Arthur stared blankly at his closet. It was 10. He had gone for a run, showered, had breakfast, and still did not know what he was going to wear.  It would be cold outside, but they would be inside and probably drinking hot beverages and he didn’t want to be sweaty and gross but he didn’t want to be cold either, did he?

He finally settled on a sweater, one that he had originally picked out, a button-down shirt, and some jeans. He sent a photo to Ariadne with  **_???_ ** as the caption. 

She sent some thumbs up emojis. 

 

**_It’s over an hour before and I’m already nervous. What if I’m reading the situation completely wrong?_ **

_ You aren’t. He likes you too.  _

**_I can never tell. What if he just wants to be friends or something?_ **

_ He kissed you! _

**_What if he kisses a lot of other people? What if it didn’t mean anything?_ **

_ He’s choosing YOU because he wants something with YOU. _

 

Why would anyone in their right minds choose him? Did Eames really choose him? He was so...boring. Studious. Quiet. Serious. He wasn’t fun or popular like Eames. He didn’t love parties, and he didn’t really drink. He wasn’t into sports. All he did was read and stay home. He was...boring. 

Arthur went into his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Under the bright white lights, he looked kind of sallow and scrawny. He looked so young. His hair was a mess. He wasn’t beautiful like Eames, with his gorgeous full lips and his crystal blue eyes and his cool tattoos and his big muscles. 

Arthur’s stomach turned over. He was breathing hard and starting to panic. He slid down, sitting cross-legged and resting his forehead against the cold tile of the wall next to him. His hands were almost shaking as he typed:  **_Why me?_ ** Doubting thoughts spun through his mind. Eames wouldn’t settle for him, would he? He wasn’t good enough.

She responded immediately.  _ Arthur, don’t doubt yourself. You’re great, you’re lovely, you’re cute. _

**_But_ **

Arthur’s phone rang. It was Ariadne. 

“ARTHUR, DO YOU NEED ME TO GIVE YOU A PEP TALK BECAUSE I AM FULLY PREPARED TO GIVE YOU ONE RIGHT NOW!” she shouted.

“I can hear you perfectly fine, you know.” He was a little deaf now, but he was trying to stay calm.  Try as he might, his voice gave him away.

“I don’t think you understand me. You need to stop worrying. You don’t need to be good enough for anyone else. You’re good enough because you’re  _ you _ .”

“Ari--”

“Don’t ‘Ari’ me. You need to listen. You can’t go through this every time. I’m going to be here for you, but you need to not throw yourself into a panic when you like someone.”

“I--”

“I’m not done. You are my best friend and you’re fucking cute and if he says you’re not good enough, I will beat up that asshole for you!”

He could practically hear her shaking her little fist at the imagined enemy.

“Okay,” he said, taking a few deep breaths. Ari’s words repeated in his head.  _ “You’re fucking cute!”  _

_ I’m fucking cute, I’m fucking cute.  _ It just about had to be the strangest mantra ever.  _ I’m fucking cute.  _ Okay, he wasn’t terrible looking and he shouldn’t worry about Eames... “Okay.”

“You better be okay otherwise I’m coming over to slap some sense into you!”

“I’m better, I promise. Thanks. Thanks, Ari. I needed that,” he answered, running a hand through his hair. It was still a mess.

She sighed, all the aggression gone out of her. “All in a day’s work.”

Arthur checked his watch. “I should probably tell my mom that I’m going out for lunch.”

“You didn’t tell her?”

“She wants me out of the house, like with New Year’s Eve. She thinks I’m antisocial. Therefore, she won’t ask any questions.”

  
  


Arthur was wrong about that. His mother could see that he had fussed with his hair and showed some extra effort, and thus, she had about a billion questions. 

“Who are you meeting?” she asked, giving him a strange look up and down.  
“Just a friend,” he answered, trying to brush her off. 

“Where?”

“The café,” he finally said, lacing up his shoes. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. 

“How long are you going to be out?”

“I don’t know, mom.  _ It’s just lunch _ . I thought you were the one who wanted me out of the house,” he said, exasperated. 

“Yes, well...Okay,” she said slowly, sweeping his hair back away from his face. She could see that he was nervous about something and knew his pent-up energy would not be getting her any answers. “Well, you have fun, okay?”

“Fine, mom, I have to go now,” Arthur said, already backing away and grabbing his keys. “Bye!” 

 

He drove with his attention only half on the road in front of him. He really did not want to be late to this. But as always he didn’t want to be too early, either, and have to sit there alone and wait. He decided that he’d park in front of the café and text Eames before he went inside.

 

**_I’m here._ **

He kept turning his phone over in his hands, nervously fidgeting. Eames took a while to respond, during which Arthur nearly worried himself into a fit thinking that Eames had stood him up and that he would look ridiculous waiting outside of the café for what would eventually turn into hours. When the text finally came, he nearly dropped his phone, startled by the vibrating alert.

**Just parked. Wait for me out front?**

He was about to send a  reply when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up from his phone to see Eames standing before him, a wide grin on his face and a blue striped Henley stretched across his shoulders. 

_ He has a thing for Henleys, doesn’t he?  _ Arthur thought to himself.  _ Well, I’m not complaining,  _ he thought, eyes lingering on the strip of skin revealed by the not-completely-buttoned shirt _.  _

“Hi,” Arthur said sheepishly, still clutching his phone foolishly. 

“Hello.” Eames smiled. 

“Um.”  _ Wow, smooth already, Arthur.  _

Eames seemed to ignore any awkwardness, stepping past him. “Well, shall we?” Eames asked, opening the door for Arthur with a flourish. 


	6. cross your fingers, here we go

_ Say something. Come on, Arthur. Say something. You haven’t said anything but ‘thanks’ at the door. Just think about how easily you talked with him, before, at the party. This is nothing more than that. Don’t overthink this.  _

_ He looks lovely today, doesn’t he? His jumper looks so soft. He really does always dress nicely, doesn’t he? Little crisp collar with the jumper and everything.  _

_ Why can’t I look right at him? I’m so bad with eye contact. Stop looking down at the table! _

_ Is he nervous too? I mean, I am a bit too, but I probably don’t come across so. The poor darling. He won’t meet my eyes. Is he embarrassed to be seen with me or something?  _

_ Stop fiddling with your phone. Put it in your pocket. And stop moving your hands, damn it! Look at the menu or something. _

_ Should I say something? I’m going to sound stupid or say something corny, aren’t I? _

_ His shirt really brings out the blue in his eyes. Oh god, he’s so...cute. Cute? Can you describe a muscular man like him as ‘cute’? His shirt also hugs his muscles... _

_ What do I say? Keep it casual, Eames. He’s going to think you’re so awkward for not saying anything. Or garbling your words by laying the accent on thick because you know you always do that when you’re nervous. _

_ Hot? Handsome? If I can’t even come up with the proper words in my thoughts, I definitely cannot speak aloud. _

_ Say something! _

_ Come on! _

 

“So--” they both say at exactly the same time. 

“Oh--”

“I’m sorry--”

“Go ahead.”

“No, you.”

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Eames looked around them, where all of the other café patrons seemed to be eating and chatting happily. He ran his hand through his hair, effectively ruffling it into a mess. They had only been here for a few minutes, seated by the hostess quickly and given menus to look at, but their silence amongst the bustle of the restaurant had seemed awkward and tense.

“You’re nervous too? Thank god, I thought it was just me.” Arthur seemed to let out a sigh of relief. And he was finally looking Eames in the eye.

“I’ve been worried that I’d get so worked up that you wouldn’t be able to understand me through my accent!” 

It was true. His accent could get atrocious sometimes. Lovely, but atrocious.

“Well, you at least look relaxed. Meanwhile, I’m here fiddling with anything and everything in sight.” He put down the salt shaker quite pointedly.

“God, we make quite a pair, don’t we? Barely five minutes in and we’re already a mess.”

Arthur started to laugh, ridiculously and uncontrollably. It must have been the pent-up nervous energy, but Eames thought it was adorable. It seemed like Arthur couldn’t stop himself from snorting, his cheeks getting a little red, and Eames couldn’t help but chuckle along with him. 

They were in full delirium mode, laughing their arses off over god-knows-what when the waitress came back with two glasses of water, almost afraid to interrupt them. 

“Thank you,” Arthur finally managed to get out, in between bouts of laughter. 

 

Eames took a sip of water. “So, do you come here a lot?” Eames started, turning the pages of the menu. 

_ Oh-  _ He looked up. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean it to seem like such a pick-up line.”

That nearly set off Arthur again, but he seemed to suppress the giggle. “Yeah, since I was pretty young. It’s been around for a long time. You?”    

“Every so often. Someone introduced me my first year here.”

“You know, sometimes I forget you haven’t lived in this small town all your life.” Arthur looked up from the menu, as if he had actually forgotten that Eames stuck out like a sore thumb at times in their small town. 

“I just fit in seamlessly, don’t I?” Eames asked jokingly, stressing a more posh accent that he always thought seemed counterintuitive to his appearance. This was something that had caused him a bit of anxiety in the beginning; much as he liked to think he was flexible and easy-going, he had stressed over the fact that his tattoos and muscles seemed extremely out of place at their preppy high school. Never mind the fact that, back in the England, he had been at a fancy public school. With uniforms. 

He shuddered internally.

“You seem to have gotten on pretty well over the years. Even if your tattoos still probably shock some of the parents,” Arthur said, referring to the ink that he knew curled around Eames’s biceps and peeked out from his collar. 

“Certainly shocks the teachers during roll call when they call out a posh name and all they get is little old me. Or not-so-little old me.”

“I like them!” Arthur protested.

“Got the first on a dare.”

“You did  _ not _ .” Arthur squinted at him like he could see Eames’s past in his face.

“You think too much of me. Why wouldn’t I do so? A dare is as good as any other reason.”

“Hmm. True, I could see young Eames doing such a thing.”

_ No need to tell him it was only a while ago _ . “Well, life is short.” A phrase which, coincidentally, he had been thinking of tattooing on his left shoulder. Cliché, yes, but true.

“But tattoos are forever.”

“I see you don’t approve.”  _ If he knew about the stories behind some of the more ridiculous ones, he probably would approve even less. _

“Not that. I just don’t know if I would ever be able to make a decision like that. What if I woke up the next day and decided that I hated it?”

“You can remove tattoos, you know.” Eames fiddled with the paper wrapper from his straw.

“Yeah, you can casually peel off your skin too if you want,” Arthur shot back. 

“Laser tattoo removal exists, Arthur.”

“And so does regret.”

“Touchy, I see.” 

“I find them hot but I just can’t imagine myself with them, you know?”

_ Hmm, he finds tattoos hot...I’ll keep that in mind. _

“Ah, so you find them hot...” Eames rubbed his hands together.  _ Let’s keep it light.  _ “Just wait ‘til you see the one on my bum.”

“You’re joking.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Eames winked.

“Oh, be still my heart.” But despite his joking words, Arthur blushed.

“Darling, if you feel faint, I can get hold of some smelling salts. Don’t you worry, my sweet, delicate Victorian maiden. I know a place.”

“The same place where you got the biscuits?”

“You bet your arse.”

“You know, I’ll do just that.”

“Considering that the only time we’ve really seen each other was at a party at nighttime, I haven’t really gotten a good look at it, but I bet it’s a cute arse knowing you.”

Arthur parroted back Eames’s words, “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” 

  
  


After that  flirting ~~talking~~ , the rest of the date went a little bit easier. Okay,  _ much  _ easier. He had chosen a lunch date because he felt like they didn’t have the weirdness of the after dinner do-you-ask-to-go-to-their-place-or-do-you-just-awkwardly-leave dilemma, but still, the beginning had been a bit trying especially after he had built it up in his mind after the party. Thankfully, they seemed to get on like a house on fire. 

Arthur told him what was good and what to order; which was nice, because Eames couldn’t even pretend to concentrate on reading the menu when he had someone so much more interesting in front of him to look at. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you later what they had talked about, the conversation flitting from topic to topic again, just like the night of the party. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you how long they sat there. And he wouldn’t even have been to tell you what they ate, just that it was delicious. 

He  _ would _ be able to tell you that Arthur’s eyelashes were dark and long and curled just the slightest, that Arthur’s hands were fascinating and tended to play with his shirtsleeves when he was nervous or absent-minded, that Arthur’s dimples were adorable and Eames melted every time he smiled, that Arthur’s brown eyes lit up beautifully when he was excited or passionate about something he was talking about. Or maybe they just lit up because he was hyper from all of the sugar he dumped in his iced coffee. The amount was a little bit insane.

 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Arthur asked abruptly, after the cheque had long been paid and they had sat there and continued talking. 

“Bit antsy from all that sugar you just consumed?” he teased.

“Maybe a little.”

“I know just the place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It really has been a while, guys, so thanks for sticking with me so far! My transition to uni has left me with zero time to write, so hopefully I can take this holiday to churn a few chapters out- I promise I'm not abandoning Arthur and Eames :)


	7. kissing up on fences and up on walls

It was weird being back here at the park with Eames. He hadn’t been here in a while, but a lot of the memories still felt fresh. He could see himself here, little Arthur from what felt like many, many years ago, running across the grass back when he used to play football. And soccer. And tennis. And basketball. Because of course his mom had made him try every sport there was at one point, back before they both realized that he was pretty terrible at hand-eye coordination and was only really suited to running track or swimming. 

And now he was back, watching little kids do the same thing, watching them figure out their own abilities and find out more about themselves. He felt like a completely different person now, sitting on the bench, watching, looking back on old memories that felt covered in dust. It was strange how he could feel so distanced from it all. 

 

No one disturbed them where they were sitting on the bench at the edge of the track. He kept expecting someone to run up to him from school and gape at the unlikely sight of him sitting next to Eames. He could imagine their surprise, much like his own surprise at the reality of it all, and the utter strangeness of of trying to explain himself. He could barely believe it himself. Eames had been someone he, he would have been reluctant to say, probably would have only admired from afar. He admired anyone, honestly, who could get away with somehow simultaneously standing out and fitting in in high school. Eames was beautiful and foreign, and not even just in the first sense of the word.  They existed in completely different social circles- that is to say, if Arthur existed in  _ any _ social circles. 

He hadn’t always been on the fringe. In fact, he remembered being quite talkative and geeky when he was younger. He couldn’t pinpoint when he had started to withdraw into himself; even now, he didn’t shut people down and he wasn’t necessarily quiet all the time. In fact, he could be sarcastic and sassy and opinionated when provoked, but for a while now, he had been a bit hollow and felt as if he couldn’t relate to anyone or anything in their tiny town. He ached for bigger dreams. And while he had Ari and loved her to pieces, he hadn’t been able to talk, really  _ talk _ , to anyone in a while. 

But _ Eames _ , Eames seemed to keep him on his toes. He was so utterly  _ unpredictable  _ in a way that simultaneously scared Arthur and delighted him to no end. Everything about him was just so interesting and new, but he felt at the same time like an old friend whom Arthur just hadn’t seen in a while. Which was probably why their silence even now felt comfortable, instead of stifling. He felt as if he could just sit here forever next to Eames. 

 

Arthur’s phone vibrated. He dug it out of his pocket, nearly dropping it on the ground because his hands were a little clumsy from the cold.

**hello arthur? earth 2 arthur**

“Eames. I’m sitting right next to you.” He stared at him pointedly, but Eames refused to look up from his phone, where it looked like he was tapping very slowly on the touchscreen with a single finger.

**i know im here as well**

“Stop not capitalizing letters.”

**damnit i will do what i want this is a free country**

“You are so stubborn.”

“Very true.”

“You are truly like a child.”

“That is also true.”

“Frankly, it’s a little frightening.”

“But deep down, you know you love my whimsical nature.”

“It’s...definitely an interesting time. You’re very unpredictable.”

Eames sent a sheep emoji as if to prove a point.

“Hmm. I did not know there was a sheep emoji.” 

Arthur scrolled through his keyboard for anything that could resemble an appropriate response to the sheep emoji, but before he could send off anything in reply, Eames sent him a kissy face.

“Hey, I was going to--” 

And suddenly, Eames was kissing him and all of Arthur’s thoughts flew out of his head. For a while, he left the noise of his mind and just focused on enjoying the kiss. Sadly, it did not last forever like he had hoped and they broke apart. “Um. Nice transition. Very smooth.”

“Thank you, darling.”

Arthur blushed. He didn’t know if it was the little pet names or the kiss or the blustery wind or just Eames, but his face felt like it was very red. Probably just Eames. 

“You were miles away earlier, weren’t you?”

“Sort of. Being back here just brings back memories. I used to play like every sport, did you know?”

“Really?  Arthur, I did not have you pegged as a super sporty child.”

“You mean you didn’t look at me and immediately think I was a jock?” Eames coughed, unable to hide his laugh. “Yeah, I know. But my mom...you know how parents are. She wanted me out of the house and running around, even though I probably would have been much happier inside with my books.”

“But you still run track, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it helps me clear my head,” Arthur admitted. He wasn’t necessarily the best on the team, but he still tried.

“I’ve seen you. You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks, Mr. I’m-Amazing-At-Soccer. Oh, I mean  _ football _ , sorry.”

Eames laughed. “Really can’t take a compliment, can you?” 

“I'll take kisses instead.” Arthur blushed at his forwardness. It seemed like such an  _ Eames _ kind of line.

Eames laughed. “Well, I'll gladly kiss you.” And he did just that, leaning in and stealing a kiss. “God, you taste so sweet...and not even just because your drink had about 5 tons of sugar in it.”

Arthur blushed again.

“Obviously it's because you’re sweet. And you look absolutely adorable when you go all pink like that.”

Arthur tried to hide his face. 

“Don't hide from me, darling. I said you're adorable!” 

Arthur just seemed to be in a state of perpetual blush. 

“Don’t worry, darling. You’re not just adorable. You’re perfect.”

  
  


Those words echoed in his head.  _ You’re perfect _ .  _ You’re perfect _ . He felt high above the clouds. How he even got back to the restaurant and drove home was a blur to him.  _ You’re perfect. He said, ‘You’re perfect.’  _

 

He would bask in this beautiful afterglow, but something in him knew Ariadne would kill him if he didn’t fill her in.

 

**_He told me I was perfect._ **

She responded immediately.  _ See, I told you he likes you! I don’t know why you wouldn’t believe me. _

**_You know I just get nervous._ **

_ Well, don’t be nervous. Just know that your feelings are reciprocated. And that he’s super hot.  _

**_Like I could forget that part._ **

_ I don’t know! You forgot that you were cute earlier lol _

**_Oh yeah, thanks for the pep talk before._ **

_ Of course. That’s what I’m here for. _

Arthur was just about to text back when his phone rang. “Hi, Ari,” he said.

She laughed. “Aww, Arthur! You sound like you’re in a dream.”

“I...I honestly don’t even know what’s real right now. He just..he makes me  _ feel  _ something, you know?” He paused. “He just makes me feel excited. And yet I feel so at ease just being with him. Like I don’t have to impress him or anything. I can just...be myself. I don’t have to be anyone else around him.”

“I’m so happy for you, Arthur! I feel like I tell you this all the time, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to be anyone else, okay? He likes you for who you are and I do too.”

“Thanks for being so supportive.” He suddenly remembered something. “So how are things on your end? Hear anything back from Yusuf?”

“Not really. I mean, I posted a few photos from New Year’s, some of us together, and he liked them, but we were pretty drunk so I don’t know if he remembers much or if he even likes me like that. God, I just hope it’s not awkward when I see him at school...Did I say anything embarrassing that night?”

“You giggled a lot around Eames, but nothing super embarrassing. Though I wasn’t with you for most of the night, so I guess Yusuf would be the only one to know. He also tried to kiss both me and Eames, so you both probably did equally embarrassing things.” Arthur laughed. “But I think Eames had said he was talking about you before they were even at the party, so maybe he does like you that way? Ari, do you like him?”

“I don’t know.” She paused. “I mean, I feel like I barely know him. He’s in a few of my classes, but we’ve never really talked or anything. Not until the party. But then again, I don’t remember everything we said to each other, so,” she laughed, “I don’t even know.” 

“I guess we’ll see then. I hope it works out. If you’re meant to be, I’m sure you two will naturally gravitate towards each other. Maybe you two will just get drunk at another party and go make out in a closet or something.”

“That is  _ not _ what happened!” she exclaimed. 

There was silence. 

“Okay, that’s kind of what happened.”

They laughed. 

**Author's Note:**

> All chapter titles (and fic title) are Troye Sivan lyrics.


End file.
